


peach in june

by ficfucker



Series: saddle soarin': a rabbit lightning collection [4]
Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Established Relationship, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, gross redneck fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 00:02:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20573117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficfucker/pseuds/ficfucker
Summary: lohn & redd get busy in their trailer





	peach in june

**Author's Note:**

> this is gross dont @ me

“Hey, come o’er here a minute,” Redd calls from where he is at their small kitchen table. He’s playing some card game by himself, maybe Solitaire. 

Lohn’s been milling around in the trailer in his boots and panties and hat all morning, shaking his hips to a beat only in his head from the seed of a new song he woke up with, pocket notebook in hand to jot down lyrics as they come to him. “Whatchu want? I dun wanna lose what I got goin’.” 

“Come pull mah hair back fer me. Gettin’ too long to have it loose.” 

That’s enough for Lohn to forget his song. He’s a sucker for Redd’s hair, loves running his fingers through it, twirling it idly in the truck when they’re driving, so he tosses his notebook down on the couch, goes over to Redd. “Got a tie?” 

Without looking up from his cards, Redd holds out a black elastic. “Jus’ grab a chair an’ pull it behind me.” 

Lohn does and sits, manspreading behind his partner, takes the long ribbons of hair into his hands and rakes his fingers through them. His hair is soft and fine, slips between his fingertips in ways that tickle. “Braids er jus’ a tail?” Lohn asks. Redd’s hair smells good, like all the little soaps they take from hotels, airy and perfumed, makes him want to bury his face into Redd and inhale. 

“Jus’ a tail. Nothin’ fancy.” 

Lohn listens and ties it back for him in a lazy ponytail that hangs down his back. He’s in a black muscle shirt, name of some bar they played printed on the front, a crying eagle on the back, shrieking, talons out at Lohn. For bottoms, he’s got on camouflage pants, the thick, heavy kind they sell at military surplus stores, dark green and brown with splotches of black. 

Lohn curls a finger into one of the belt loops of Redd’s britches, leans his head to where Redd’s shoulder blade rises from his back in a subtle slope. “We gun do anythin’ fun today, Moonshine?” 

Redd hums. “Thought you had that song to git on.” 

“Well, ‘s near noon. Figured we could get sumthin’ to eat.” 

Redd moves some cards on the table, making satisfying “thwaps” as he bends their thick stock paper and slaps them down. “Where ya wanna go then?” 

Lohn reaches into Redd’s pockets, caressing his thighs through the thin fabric inside, and finds another hair elastic, takes it out, starts pulling back his own hair, which is just barely long enough to fit into a little tail that juts out under his hat like black straw. “Oh, I’unno. Someplace easy. Reckon the Early Bird’s still open. Git sum eggs.” 

“I could cook that for ya here, Lightning.” Redd lolls his head so it’s leaning to Lohn’s shoulder, rubs his beard up against Lohn’s cheek affectionately. 

Lohn gets excited, presses himself up against Redd, and asks, “Since when you know how to cook?” 

Redd laughs. “You ain’t one to be judgin’. Can’t cook nothin’ outside warmin’ canned soup.”

“I never heard you complainin’ when I bring you Campbells an’ saltines in bed.” 

Redd smiles, kisses Lohn under the eye, goes back to sitting up straight and focusing on his cards. “Good ‘nuff point then.”

Lohn stays pressed up to Redd, half-hard in his thin panties, aroused just from being around Redd, his sweet, feminine smell, his long, soft hair, the scratch of his beard. He breathes in and out, listens to Redd’s heart as it thrums, the quiet shuffling of cards as they’re moved across the surface of the table. He feels like a randy coon hound. 

“You gunna need a helpin’ hand wit’ that situation you got goin’ back there?” Redd asks. 

Lohn titters and giggles, leans in and nibbles on Redd’s ear. “Always got a situation where yer around, Redd,” he says, voice low and breathy, trying his best to get Redd in the mood so he’ll get up and pounce on him. 

Redd stands and turns around, prompts a delighted Lohn to follow suit, and Redd grabs him by his bare, slender hips, tugs him to his front, chest to chest. Redd’s grinning big behind his orange lenses. “Went from thinkin’ about eggs to this?”

Lohn stands on his toes, kisses Redd on the nose playfully. “Yer a pretty boy, Rabbit, it ain’t hard fer my mind to be switchin’ track so quick-like.” 

Redd tilts his hips forward in a grind, pushes himself against Lohn. "If I'm a pretty boy, you're a whole movie star, Lightning." He leans down and they kiss, Lohn arching up to meet him halfway, mouths slightly parted, Redd moving his hands to cup Lohn's face, long, spindly fingers nearly eclipsing Lohn's entire jaw. It makes him feel small and loved, makes him hum into Redd’s mouth. 

"Make me wanna git up an' dance," Lohn whispers dreamily, close enough for their lips to brush. "Make me wanna write a million songs 'bout you." Lohn puts his hands to Redd's arms, squeezes and rubs his bare biceps up and down like trying to warm a fire, loves how human-warm he feels under his touch. 

“Pretty as a peach in June,” Redd breathes. He takes a step back, bringing Lohn with him, and they backward walk-stumble to their small, shared bedroom, land on the mattress with a thump and a giggle. 

They kiss and Redd runs his hands up and down Lohn’s bare thighs, and Lohn squirms under him, sighing and cooing. Lohn undoes the large, grey button on the front of Redd’s camouflage pants, unzips the small track of golden teeth, mouth still busy, tongue pushed past Redd’s teeth. 

They pause to let Redd get up and shuck off his pants, opting to keep the shirt and glasses on, which now that Lohn thinks of it, he’s only seen Redd without those orange shades off a handful of times, same as how he always keeps his cowboy hat on. Redd’s in plain white underwear with blue trim and Lohn doesn’t waste a moment with dipping his hand into it and gripping him by the base firmly. 

“Oh Lord, Lohn,” he gasps, grabbing Lohn’s thighs and digging his short fingernails into the soft skin so they leave behind pink crescent moons. 

“Want my mouth on ya?” Lohn asks, not waiting for an answer. He gives Redd a kiss, sloppy and rushed, mouth frantic, and sinks down to his knees, pulling Redd from his underwear and wrapping his lips around him. He bobs his head, tongue lolled out, and Redd shouts, puts his hand to the top of Lohn’s cowboy hat. 

“Got a devil of a mouth on you…” 

Lohn hums, twitches in his panties at the praise, and takes more of Redd into his mouth, gagging as Redd hits his throat, but he doesn’t pull away, nose almost poking Redd’s lower stomach, nostril-flaring humid puffs. Drool pools and dribbles from the sides of his mouth, stringy and thick, and Lohn can feel his eyes water, clenches them shut so he looks determined, and he is, relaxing his throat the best he can to take Redd in. 

“Oh, good glory, Lohn, gunna git my nut too quick like this,” Redd groans. and he grips by his short ponytail, yanks him back, cock sliding wetly from his mouth, and Lohn looks up, gasping, shining threads of drool hanging off his tongue and lips. 

“Look like you belong in a nudie,” Redd remarks. 

Lohn snickers and wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand, gets up and tilts himself down to kiss Redd before they roll back onto the bed, hands all over each other, firm and wanting, touching ribs and stomachs, reaching between the soft warmth of legs to grasp firmly at each others erections. Redd grips him just so, strokes him long and aggressive, like shifting gears and Lohn makes a gutted sound, pushes himself up frantically against the mattress, thrusting into Redd’s fist. 

“Wanna do more than this? Won’t last long nuff if you keep touchin’ me like that,” Lohn offers, unabashed. 

Redd eskimo kisses him, nose to nose, and some sun shines in through the plastic slats of their grey blinds then, casting heavenly lines of yellow over their faces. Redd regrips him, twists his wrist, watches with great satisfaction as Lohn chirps and twists. “I ain’t wanna open up, too heated to wait fer that.” 

Lohn nods, mouth slipping open as Redd continues working his hands over him. “Well, c’mere then, we ain’t gotta do it that way.” He lets go of Redd and sits up on his knees, rolls Redd over so he’s splayed flat on his back and gets between his thighs, presses their cocks together, drops a frothy wad of spit into his palm, and squeezes them both together. 

“Oh, lordy,” Redd breathes, moaning high and feminine, throwing an arm over his eyes as he pants. His cock strings precum, sliding down between them, keeps them slick so Lohn can run his hand over them smooth without friction. 

“Was right with whut I said: real pretty boy, Redd. Prettiest boy in the whole dang country right here in fronta me,” Lohn murmurs, giving them a squeeze that makes them bite on gasps at the same time. 

Redd’s thighs shiver and quake, start to inch shut with overstimulation and he whimpers when Lohn grabs him roughly, slaps a palm to his naked thigh and pins his legs open, apart. Stray hairs have sweat and stuck to the sharp line of his jaw, wetted to the back of his neck, and he drops his arm away to look up at Lohn, who’s looking down at him intensely, loving and lustful, tongue peeking out from between his lips. 

“Make me come, Lohn,” Redd whispers. 

Lohn bows over them to reaches Redd’s lips, uncoordinated, kind of falling recklessly over his partner, but he doesn’t lose his grip, holding tight to their slippery cocks as he strokes and now kisses, forcing his tongue into Redd’s eager mouth. It hurts his back, this position, but he doesn’t want to back off to adjust, doesn’t want to break away from Redd for a second, keeps kissing into him, rubbing him, hips rolling along to his fist. 

“Come fer me, Redd. Want you to come for me,” Lohn murmurs into his mouth, face so close his features are blurred, orange glasses crooked over his nose. 

Redd sucks in a breath and blindly reaches up, holds Lohn by the throat, hands shaking, thighs shaking, and he strains into the bed, rocking against Lohn as much as he can from their awkward, crouched position, and he comes, cock leaping in Lohn’s hand, shooting long thick ropes between them. “Oh, Lohn Lightning, oh christ,” he cries, face scrunching up, peppering Lohn’s face with quick, messy kisses, and Lohn goes over the edge there, too, leans away to breathe and groan, coming over Redd’s black muscle shirt, lines of white come soaking in transparent. 

“Gracious,” Lohn whispers, his face tweaking into a smile. He feels like cooked spaghetti, flopping down over Redd, and Redd “oomf”s at his weight, claps his hand over his slick, bare back, hat cocked funny on is head from the way he lies. 

“Sure was somethin’, Lohn,” Redd chuckles. “You really bring it out of me.” 

Lohn kisses his beard, kisses under his ear. “Gimme a bit, I’ll bring it outta ya again.” 

Redd laughs, chest drumming like thunder, and he squeezes Lohn’s shoulders. “Gunna be cookin’ you eggs an’ you’ll come along, start ruttin’ on my thigh.” 

Lohn giggles and rolls off him, arms still touching, and looks around from some tissues to clean up, but their bedside table only has a glass tray full of cigarette butts and a half-used bottle of lube. “Sounds like a dream come true. Nuff time to finish that songa mine then we’ll go at it again.”

“‘S a plan then,” Redd yawns. “10 minute nap an’ then we’ll get started in.”

“Love you, Moonshine.”

Redd smiles, adjusts his glasses, which are smeared and printed, feeling sticky and wet in his shirt, long bare legs hanging over the edge of the bed and nearly touching the stubbly carpet floor. “Love you most, Lohn.” 

**Author's Note:**

> kudos + comments if you enjoyed; thanks for reading!
> 
> talk to me on tmblr @ficfucker


End file.
